Trinity

Trinity :- Chapter 1 :- The Death Of Richard Gamblin

CHAPTER 1 - The Death Of Richard Gamblin

It is 11:18pm in Karratha, Western Australia, and I am writing on a small scrap of paper in the darkness of a stolen car.

As I write I lift the pen just before the tyres hit small bumps and minor pot-holes in the road.

I do not have to see what I am writing.

I cannot be put off by the random jolts of the vehicle.

For I know when to write and when to lift the pen so my writing is not spoiled by the irregularites of the road or peculiarities of the driver.

For nothing can perturb me. Not randomness, not irregularites, not peculiarities.

Not even darkness.

I am Shadow: a mute young girl cursed with omniscience.

*Nothing Is Impossible. Only Highly Improbable.*

In writing on the small scrap of paper those words, I complete my whole life story.

As I place the scrap in my calico bag full of similar pre written notes, Travis pulls into a non descript BP fuel station to fill our car with petrol.

Our most recent, illegally aquired car.

Travis broods over what we had had to give up in exchange for this hire car, but it has to be done if I am to fulfill my fate.

After all, only two people can fit into the stolen Murcielago we drove north from Perth.

Soon we will number three.

Before Travis has parked up next to the fuel bowser I have extricated from my bag three small scraps, as well as a tissue paper I wrote on last week for just this occasion.

Handing Travis the tissue I sense his eagerness to read it; to quench his voracious suspicions. But I know he will fuel up first before reading.

He loves the suspense. The excitement before being told the future was for him much better than the finality of knowing it.

Meanwhile I disembark and enter the petrol station.

The blinding lights around me are a marked difference from the darkness of the drive here, and it helps me to focus my mind on the present. As I enter the fuel shop and approach the counter, my ears can almost pick out in real time the two brothers driving past the fuel station beyond the glaring lights.

"There's only one car, that white hire car there. Let's wait until they are gone and then do it. Pull in, pull in now." It is Tuomas- the reason why we had to swap cars.

Other thoughts impinge on my mind as I sweep past the empty aisles of convienience goods, and it is hard to maintain focus. That there is the body of an aboriginal warrior I am walking over right now, beneath two metres of concrete and service lines, and six metres of earth.

A victim of the drought of 1397.

Or the visions of a bloody confrontation at this spot in just over 43 years time.

Surrepticiously I return my thoughts to the task at hand, faking a smile to gain the requisite emotion, and offering the aged attendant a handful of bills and coins, and with my free hand the first prewritten scrap.

As always, he smiles back at my supposed innocence, seeing no danger in a nine year old girl paying for fuel, even this close to midnight.

Slight confusion sweeps over his face as he speaks. "Well hello there, bit late for your bedtime isn't it?" As he takes the scrap in my hand he reads it with a grin at the novelty of it all.

*Hello ,I am mute. I am here to pay for the fuel.*

He laughs at the childlike deliberateness of my writing as he looks outside to see Travis still fuelling up the car.

And just as he turns back to me to speak what I know he will say, Travis has finished fuelling the car and has started to read the tissue paper I gave him.

"He is still fuelling up, love."

As I know I should, I put the money on the counter and push it forward as I indicate with a twirling finger for him to look at the other side of the scrap.

He complies.

*He's finished fuelling up now. You can keep the change."

His name is Richard Gamblin, though his name badge says he is Anton. I know the whole history of the aged attendant, but with practised efficiency I maintain my innocuous charade as he looks out to see that Travis has indeed finished refuelling the car.

As Richard checks the price of the fuel.

$36.54.

He smirks after counting the money on the table.

$36.60.

While he has done this he has not seen how I slipped a note to the side of the counter. Behind the chewing gum stand. Although it is in the open and written in bold writing, I know he won't be the one to find it. This is because the message is not intended for him, but for someone else.

"Keep the change," Richard replies. "Good one."

As I leave the final note in my hand on the counter, I do not need to check if it is up the right way, for I know it is. I do not need to see his shocked reaction upon reading it for I know already what he will do. He will read it and wonder how much we know. Then he will look out at Travis, who will give him a wry grin as I told him to do on the tissue paper he is reading. For I knew exactly what three words would provoke such a reaction.

*Thank You Richard.*

And now Travis reads on the tissue the details of Richard Gamblins life. How twenty years ago Richard killed a man over a matter of $260. How he is a fugitive on the run, who has a new name and a new life. Anton he calls himself these days. The name that is on his badge.

And as I walk out of the fuel shop I do not have to glance to my right to know there is a red Holden SS ute recently parked up, with two brothers inside it, turned away from me to hide their faces from view.

For they are about to rob the fuel shop.

And unwittingly come face to face with the man who killed their father.

Richard has turned over the scrap now, to see what I wrote in bold letters there.

*You Shouldn't Have Killed Mark Rossteau. Now His Sons Are Here. Tonight You Are Fated To Die.*

His mouth is dry. His eyesight is blurring. His skin has turned pale. He is asking himself a thousand questions. And before he can think of calling the police or setting off the alarm that would alert them to the danger, Travis gives a wink before embarking our vehicle with me.

A wink that freezes him and makes him realise that we know everything.

And that soon he will be dead.

For with my prompts I have made it so, and fulfilled destiny.